


The Eternal Storm (Satan x Reader)

by sondepoch



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Comfort, Completed, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, M/M, MC is gender neutral, Oneshot, Reader is gender neutral, Satan and Lucifer fight, Sweet, lmao i basically ended up doing a whole character analysis, reader is mc, satan x reader, was kinda hard to write satan ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sondepoch/pseuds/sondepoch
Summary: Satan hides his wrath. Not just from you, but from everyone. He constantly wears a mask, a thick veil of knowledge, sass, confidence, and sarcasm that he uses to make people forget that he is the Avatar of Wrath, Rage, and Fury: that he is the eternal storm, and there is no calm.But when you come home early to the House of Lamentation, you see the mask begin to slip.And when Satan flees to his room, you're not about to let him deal with this alone.~Oneshot
Relationships: Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Male Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 385





	The Eternal Storm (Satan x Reader)

The House of Lamentation is never quiet.

Never.

Even in the wee hours of morning, when the eternal sun that watches over the Devildom has calmed its fires, there's always someone up and about—Levi playing a video game, Beel catching a late-night snack, Lucifer thumbing through the endless loads of paperwork given to him by Diavolo.

It's endearing, honestly, how _active_ these brothers are.

So when you return to the house after a peaceful afternoon spent at Purgatory Hall, it doesn't surprise you to hear the sound of shouting. It's so common that you would probably ignore it altogether and head on straight to your room, if not for the _content_ of the shouts.

You pause when the words fall on your ears, your heart beginning to beat faster at the sound.

"Do you care to repeat that? You're nothing but a lapdog for Diavolo, hiding behind such ridiculous excuses!"

"Will you listen to what I am saying for _once_ , Satan? What made you like this? Stop jumping to conclusions and spouting arbitrary nonsense—"

_"What made me like this?"_ You flinch at the intensity of your lover's voice as he repeats Lucifer's words back to him. You've never heard Satan sound this angry. _Never_. "You, Lucifer! You made me like this, with all your pitiful shortcomings and miserable inadequacies—"

"Stoptalking and _think_ about the words you say, Satan. You claim to have such knowledge in that brain of yours from all your reading, but in truth, you're just—"

"Stop!"

You're startled by the intensity of your own voice, but relieved all the same, both demons quieting when they realize you're in the vicinity. You hate fighting: you hated it in the human world, and you hate it even more in the Devildom, seeing it happen among the brothers you've grown to care for.

The word leaves your mouth before you even enter the room the two demons are in, and you sprint to where their shouts came from—only to see the two men standing proud and angrily in their demon forms, both gripping each other's collars in what looks like would have been a physical fight if not for your intervention.

You freeze at the sight, wondering how their argument ever escalated to this point. You've seen their fights. They're bad, but never _this_ bad.

It's quiet for a moment, and all that can be heard is the heavy breathing of the brothers.

In an instant, Satan and Lucifer release their grips on each other, stepping apart and glancing at the chandelier, at the couch, at the carpet, anywhere but _you_.

"Satan," You murmur softly, a wave of emotion overwhelming your senses when you see the pained look on his face. Why does he look so upset? Is it because of his fight with Lucifer? Did he not like how you raised your voice at him? Or is it because you, for the first time, saw the wrath he tries so hard to mask?

The blonde clicks his tongue and storms out of the room, leaving you and Lucifer behind as he swiftly escapes the scene. Out of sheer instinct, you turn to follow him, but Lucifer grabs your wrist before you can go.

"Leave him," The firstborn says, still avoiding your eyes. "It's not safe for you to be around Satan when he's like this."

With a firm tug of the wrist, you escape the demon's grip, eyes narrowing. "It's when he's like _this_ that he needs me most," You respond, running after the man you've grown to love.

As you pass door after door, Levi's room and then Beel's room and then Mammon's room, you can't help but remember the look in Satan's eyes in that brief moment when he glared at Lucifer before realizing your presence. It was a look of pure rage. So profound that only the Avatar of Wrath could ever be able to muster up a glare of such intensity.

It almost scared you.

Almost.

You bring a hand up to knock on Satan's door, quietly announcing your presence before opening it. The room is dark, the windows covered by thick curtains, only a thin light streaming through to illuminate the silhouette of the man you love.

He's trembling.

On reflex, you dart forward to catch him in your embrace and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, but the moment your fingers graze the fabric of his jacket, Satan flinches away from you. "Stay away!" He shouts, in a voice you don't recognize.

You swallow.

"Don't touch me," He murmurs, voice wavering. You can't identify the thick emotion that blocks his words—it's wrath, for sure, but there's something more, as well. You see Satan grip the bookshelf, his body still turned away from you, in a pathetic attempt to steady himself.

"Let me help you," You whisper, your voice coming out smaller than you want it to. "Please, Satan."

The blonde doesn't respond to you.

"Leave me."

The voice carries the same authority as Lucifer, and you're temporarily reminded that that's what Satan is—an extension manifested of Lucifer's own being. But you stay rooted to the spot.

"Leave me, MC!" Satan shouts, voice raising. He shakes as the words escape his mouth, the small movement causing a _bang_ as the bookshelf he's gripping rattles against the wall.

You should be terrified, you know. All common sense tells you that you should heed his instructions and escape while you can: the very last thing you should want is to be in the same room as the Avatar of Wrath when he's in a fit of rage— _still in his demon form_ —but you can't leave him. You won't.

Not when he needs you.

"Why won't you leave me?" Satan asks, and this time his voice sounds broken. Broken, pained, and _miserable_. "Don't you see?" Satan turns his head to glance at you, rooting you to the spot with the storm of emotion whirling in his eyes and how utterly _broken_ he looks. "I'm a monster, MC."

Those words break your heart.

"No," You whisper, walking toward him slowly. You keep your movements to a minimum as you approach him, well-aware that should his wrath take over, you would be in a _very_ difficult position. "You're not a monster."

"No, you wouldn't think so. That false smile of mine you hate so much does a good job of preventing you from seeing the real me." Satan turns away from you, not responding as you approach. Even now, as he speaks, you can tell that he's fighting off the wrath within him, hiding it from you. Satan scowls. "The monster within."

"Wrong," You respond swiftly. "I hate that smile _because_ it prevents me from seeing the real you. I want to see your wrath, Satan. I love you, your wrath, and everything. You are not a monster."

As delicately as you can, you place a hand on Satan's shoulder. It rests there for a moment, and you almost work up the courage to say something more when you feel an iron grip, tight as it is inescapable, seize your wrist.

Your eyes widen.

Satan moved faster than you would have thought possible, turned around and facing you, managing to grasp your hand all in less than the blink of an eye.

"You're _wrong_ ," Satan snarls, chin angled downward as he towers over you. For the first time, you see what must be his true face underneath the mask he always wears as his sin takes over. _It's terrifying_ , you realize, somewhat numbly as you stare at his face. The room seems to grow colder, even the sunlight previously streaming in the room darkening before the pure _wrath_ radiating off Satan's face.

It's nothing human.

No, it's something demonic, something meant to frighten you to your core and give you nightmares for years, something to make your legs tremble until they're rattling, something that should make any regular mortal pass out in fear or run away screaming.

But there's something more to it.

You stare at Satan in awe, wondering how it's physically possible for a single _glare_ to speak so many words.

Because even when he glances away, releasing your wrist with another mumble of how much a monster he is for being unable to control himself from doing even that, you _understand_.

You understand him so much it hurts.

Satan always wears a mask. Always. It's a mask of all his experiences: a thick veil of knowledge, sass, confidence, and sarcasm that he uses to make people forget that he is the Avatar of Wrath, Rage, and Fury: that he is the eternal storm, and there is no calm.

And thus far, Satan's only allowed you to see that mask. To protect you, probably, from what he considers to be his 'monster' within.

But no.

In that brief second where the mask slipped, you saw _him_. You saw _everything:_ yes, you saw his wrath, but also his internal conflict, his endless struggle, the burden he bears that none of his brothers share, the pain that he tries so hard to forget.

You saw _Satan._

He turns around instantly, still visibly trembling as he forces himself to look away from you. You can almost sense him about to order you out of his room when you hug from behind, wrapping your arms tightly around his abdomen before he can say anything more.

A minute ago, you would have been fearful of doing this.

But no longer.

He won't hurt you, you know. In his eyes, you saw his true emotions: from the pained frustration he bears Lucifer to the protective love he bears you—a love so strong that he actually tries to protect you _from_ himself, heartbreaking as that is.

"It's not fair," You mumble, and Satan stiffens. You can almost hear him think: _What is this human on about now?_ "It's not fair to you."

And then Satan slackens.

You know he understands your meaning. Why, you're only vocalizing what you saw in his own eyes not ten seconds ago.

And, the more you think about, the more you realize you're right. It truly _is_ unfair.

Of the seven sins—Satan's is the heaviest burden to bear. His brothers are open about their darker nature, having embraced it, if anything. Each of his siblings seem to be one with their proclaimed vices: Lucifer's pride is a standing pillar of his character; Mammon's greed so blatant that it's practically an ongoing joke. Levi sets his envy free day and night in the fictitious worlds he obsesses over, and Asmodeus has effectively turned his lust into a _tool_ for his nightly excursions. And Beel and Belphie are perhaps the most literal personifications of their sins, the former never being caught without food nearby and the latter always freshly woken from a nap.

But with Satan, it's different.

He may be quick to argue, or have a sharper tongue than most, but there's no real way for him to set his wrath free. _Ever_.

Worse yet is the fact that while his siblings were created as angels, divinely shaped to have balanced personalities, Satan is _only_ wrath. Born out of Lucifer's darkest moment, he is what manifested when the firstborn brother found his own rage too much a burden to bear, expelling it into what became Satan.

_No wonder he resents Lucifer so much_ , you can't help but think. The blonde must _want_ to love his brother. But with every waking moment, he's reminded of the fact that the ebony-haired demon is the reason he's so emotionally imbalanced in the first place, only adding to the tensions of their relationship. From Satan's point of view, he is the personification of the evil Lucifer cultivated within himself, so horrible that the demon banished it from his own body.

"Life isn't fair," Satan responds drily, quietly leaning into your arms as you squeeze him tighter. You feel the tension leave his body, the trembling subsiding as you continue to speak.

"Look at me," You mumble, leaning back just the slightest. It's a moment before the demon finally complies with your request, but when he turns around, you're pleasantly surprised to find that he's not even in his demon form anymore. "I mean _look at me_ , Satan. Show me the real you. Not...not the mask."

Reluctantly, Satan complies, and he hesitantly exposes himself to you, his eyes closing and reopening them, letting you read the storm of emotion battling inside.

It's almost mesmerizing, gazing into his eyes. It's not just a bright green wrath, as you thought you saw before. No, in his eyes you see the hints of wistful chartreuse, tones of frustrated mint. There's a hue of desperate and despondent sage in the depths, hungry for the cyan freedom that his brothers get to experience when they so openly embrace their sin, but above all, above even wrath: you see warmth in Satan's eyes. An emerald warmth that overpowers everything else, as he gazes down lovingly at you.

"You are so much more than wrath," You say, wrapping your arms around Satan's neck. "You are intelligent and kind and loving and beautiful and...and you're perfect, Satan."

"Only when I'm with you, MC," Satan responds with a light chuckle. The carefree inflection of his voice throws you off for a moment, but you sense the truth in his words.

"Guess I'll just have to never leave your side then, hm?" You quip back, a smile present on your features. You can't hide the beaming grin from spreading across your lips.

You've been in a relationship with Satan for a while. You've kissed him, and exchanged I-love-you's with him, and been intimate with him, but this moment feels like something special in your relationship.

It's the first time Satan's ever let his mask slip entirely with you, abandoning the fake smiles in favor of showing you his _true_ emotions: and for him, you understand how daunting that must be. So used to being suppressed, all Satan's thoughts and feelings come rushing to the forefront of his face when he's not actively hiding them, and it's almost endearing for you to see how much _love_ Satan has in his face as he kisses you, a quiet _thank-you_.

"That would be nice," He says, the words muffled by your lips, but you can only smile in turn, kissing him back just as tenderly.

The blonde doesn't push the moment, savoring the sensation of your lips against his. He doesn't press you against a bookshelf, or ask you to wrap your legs around him, or slide his hand down to grip your rear as he usually does.

No, this kiss is about intimacy.

About emotion.

About _love_.

It's about Satan's thankfulness for the fact that you came and stayed, even though he initially asked you to leave. How you were able to understand all the internal turmoil he's been going through without forcing him to say the words, magically able to understand him with a single glance into those ever-expressive eyes, reading his emotions like you were born for it.

You let your fingers toy with the blonde locks at the base of Satan's neck, savoring the feeling of his arms looping around your waist as he holds you firm, rooting you to the ground and to thismoment.

It's a wordless whisper, his actions.

_I'll never let you go_ , he says with his hands as they squeeze your waist gently.

And your answer comes just as passionately, your lips reacting not with words but with the _way_ they press into his, pouring forth as much emotion and love and tenderness as you can. You cup his cheek, your movements responding in an unspoken language that only the two of you understand:

_And I'll never leave you._

Satan leans his chin back every so slightly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on yours while you catch air, both breathless from the intensity of the moment.

You can sense the question in Satan's actions, in the way his eyes meet yours while you smile sweetly at him.

_Promise?_

You kiss him again, even more passionately this time.

_Promise._

**Author's Note:**

> Word count: 2.7k
> 
> Notes: Ima be honest this was a request and I found it really hard to write, just because of how little character development there is for Satan. Writing this, though, I sort of understand why SWD is struggling with his character - i mean, his sin is literally the ugliest one; there's nothing attractive about wrath. It's so obvious that Satan tries to rise above his nature, but at the same time, he was literally born out of wrath, and he's effectively forced to live his entire life masking his true nature - which sounds awful :( TLDR: Satan is precious
> 
> Comment & Leave Kudos
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.


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